


Between Night and Day

by Selkie_de_Suzie



Series: All That Jazz [7]
Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: 1930's AU, Mobster AU, Morning After, Nightclub AU, Snuggles After Sex, butterfly bog, gangster au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-29 03:12:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3880075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selkie_de_Suzie/pseuds/Selkie_de_Suzie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Morning After Fanfic to "What A Lovely Way To Burn". Before night departs and the sun rises and reality claims them, Bog and Marianne have some time to themselves. Just a simple bit of tenderness...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between Night and Day

The sun was only just beginning to touch the sky, the room full of the pale light of a world caught on the edge between night and day. Not even the faint blush of sunrise or a soft wash of gold painted the rooftops of the city. The city was temporarily hushed, the world was still and quiet, and the room above The Dark Forest was peaceful, though the musky smell of sex was still heady in the air. Marianne was slow to wake, softly blinking eyes smudged with makeup, sleep clinging to them still. Her body, warm and wonderfully sore, melted into the mattress, blankets bundled about her and something even warmer pressed against her back… 

She looked down, fuzzy with sleep, and felt a little warm glow of happiness when she saw Bog’s arm still wrapped around her, the weight of it on her warm and heavy and comforting. His hand, large and coarse with calluses and scars but capable of endless tenderness towards her, lay next to hers. His long fingers curled loosely toward her own, his nails ragged and knuckles rough, and Marianne felt a faint echo of shuddery heat as she remembered how they had dragged across her skin. Their fingers now only barely touched - their tight clasp of last night must have loosened during sleep…

The scars that lanced across his skin seemed almost silvery in the faint light, and Marianne shifted so that she could stroke gentle fingers across one. She thought back to the night before, how she had pressed kisses to the ones on his shoulders in some sort of attempt at soothing them, the taste of his skin stimulating her desire even further. Marianne smirked. Whether she had soothed him or stoked his fire even more, Bog hadn’t complained, that’s for sure. 

No sooner had she thought that when she felt the rasp of stubble and the feel of lips and teeth at her neck, teasing gently at the soft skin of the crook of her neck. Fingers stroked down her arm, and she was once again aware to an almost embarrassing degree that both of them were still naked, their bodies close, their limbs entwined, Bog curling around her protectively. With newly heightened senses, she felt the slide of the sheets, the coolness of her pillow, but most of all the feel of his skin against hers, scarred roughness against silky smoothness. 

She smiled, her teeth catching her lip as he continued to kiss and mouth along the line of her neck and shoulders almost lazily, taking his time to savor her in languid exploration. She gave a little inhale as she felt his tongue brush against a love bite he had given her last night, the skin still tender. She retaliated by softly wriggling her body, her rump gently grinding against one  _very_  sensitive part of him, and he hissed at that, his hand dropping to her hip in encouragement. 

“Mmmmph…ready for more?” She murmured. Her body was deliciously exhausted, but if he was up for it…

“If you are…” His voice was thick with sleep more than anything else, but she could hear a hint of that sharp-edged grin that made him look so wonderfully  _hungry._  

Marianne would have been happy to oblige, but when she turned in his arms to face him and continue their little talk face to face, she felt a new, rather painful tenderness go through her and flinched slightly. “Mmph, might have to wait. I’m still kind of sore.” 

Bog sat up, his concern for her making him more alert, and pulled her to him gently. Marianne settled in his arms, laying against his chest. God, but he felt so  _good_  - warm and rough with scars, the hard muscle of his broad shoulders and narrow torso a lovely thing to recline against. He stroked her hair, long fingers carding through the messy locks and cradled her to him, letting out a long and slow exhale. Marianne looked up at him, drinking him in. He looked so… _relaxed._  His hair was just as mussed as hers was, and his eyes lacking the normal shadows under them. He looked out the window to the city’s horizon, as if to see what the day would bring the both of them, his expression somewhere between calm and content and apprehensive.  

She wanted him to look at her, see how blissfully loose and satisfied she was, have him recognize that he had done that to her. She wasn’t feeling apprehensive, not yet anyways - maybe when they began to dress in the clothes that lay discarded upon the floor, maybe when they left his room, went back to the downstairs and the hustle and bustle of the club and reality and the fact that they would be navigating uncharted waters now…maybe  _then_  she would feel nervous. But right now…she just wanted to look at him, and have him look at her. 

She reached up a hand and stroked down one sharp cheek, and he quickly focused his attention on her, the bright blue of his eyes losing any wary glint to a softness that made her need to inhale. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice soft and rough, and she loved how he sounded, loved everything about him in that moment. 

“Hey,” she murmured back, her lips quirking up in a slight grin, which he readily returned. She let her fingers continue their stroking little path, the texture of his stubble gently intoxicating. “Please don’t shave today.” 

He rolled his eyes. “I’ve already skipped a few days -”

“Skip just one more. I love it.”  _I love him._

He rolled his eyes once more, but the pleased slant to his grin let her know victory was hers. “Only if you leave your hair like that for a while.”

She knew he was teasing her, but she didn’t care. “Deal. I’ll have to take care of it before the show, though.” But until then, sure, why not leave it like this, with its messy waves and rumpled curls sticking up all over the place, the scent of it ripe with perfume and sweat and sex? She snuggled up to him, and his fingers dipped back down her spine, tracing the curve there. Let him look over at her while she went about her day and remember burying his face into its softness. Let the sight of it bring him back to the memory of her splayed out beneath him, her locks spreading over his pillow, his fingers twisting into it as he made her scream with pleasure…

Marianne could definitely give him that.

At that moment she felt him press against the crown of her head and inhale, giving a small “ _Mmmm”_  of contentment. Marianne couldn’t stop the slight chuckle that went through her. God, the smallest thing made him so damn happy, did he really find her so incredible…?

_Oh God, he **did** , didn’t he?_

Marianne felt her heart give a pained little squeeze at that, and breathed in a touch sharply. Bog looked down at her once more, his gaze getting concerned again. “Are you still in pain -?” 

“No, I’m fine,”  she assured him, and she was telling the truth. “I’m just a bit sore, that’s all, not, you know,  _real_ pain. Though…” she looked down at the sheets, and felt both bashful and annoyed at her ignorance. “I  _had_  thought there would be blood…” 

“Not everyone bleeds.” Bog reached across her to the bedside table for his cigarettes. His tone was frank, and Marianne briefly wondered how many girls he had been with to get such conviction. Though perhaps it was simple knowledge - after all, he had never had to deal with a desperately sheltering figure as her Father could be, so determined to protect the gentle flower of her womanhood.  _Kind of ruined that last night, didn’t I?_

Marianne smirked before raising a brow at him, his face briefly illuminated by the flare the match he used to light up. “No?”

“That’s not to say it never happens,” he said, taking a slow drag before exhaling, his chest rising and falling, leaning back against the pillows. Marianne let her eyes take in the long, lean line of his body and was once again struck by how a delectably _torrid_  all of this was, torrid and tender - her brazenly and unconcernedly naked in bed with an infamous mobster after a night of wild passionate lovemaking, looking like a tried and true hussy while Bog looked so wonderfully  _rough_ , so deliciously  _masculine_. God, he was  _magnificent._

Unaware of her increasingly smitten thoughts, Bog continued, flicking ash of his cigarette. “It doesn’t have to happen, not if you’re ready, not if you actually have someone who knows what he’s doing -” He stopped, his face flushing as he realized how his words could be taken. 

Marianne knew immediately what he meant and once again felt immense gratitude that he had taken such pains to be so  _wonderfully_  thorough with her, as well as amusement over his own bashfulness at claiming he had brought her to such a state. “Hmmm…well, that  _would_ certainly explain it,” she murmured, her smile a bit sly. 

He glanced over at her to check if she was mocking him, and she smiled before carding her fingers through his hair, cradling the line of his jaw. She looked into those beautiful eyes of his and smiled softly, her own eyes warm and bright and nearly melting with sincerity.  _“Thank you,_ ” she murmured, her thumb brushing against his lip, and he flushed once more, and this time it certainly wasn’t from embarrassment. 

She lay her head back down against his chest, and he held her there, his palm warm against her spine. She could feel his heartbeat, and wondered if he could feel hers. The moment seemed perfect and still, time halted for them, even as the sky grew more and more determinedly lighter. 

Bog shifted a bit beneath her. “While I hate to ask this…will you need to leave soon? Hair is one thing, people will definitely talk if you walk around in what you wore last night.” 

_With runs in my stockings, you lusty sharp-nailed bastard._  But Marianne felt no real annoyance and merely stroked her fingers down his chest, loving how his breath hitched at such a simple little touch. “I keep a change of clothes here anyway, not just the ones for the show. I can throw something on. Though…I probably will need to clean up.” She could keep her hair dry, but her body needed a good scrub after…all that had happened. 

Bog nodded and then groaned. “I’ll need a shower as well.”

Marianne grinned impishly. “I could join you?” 

Bog gave a different kind of groan at that, and tugged her even closer to him. “ _We’d never leave,_ ” he replied, his eyes and voice heated, and Marianne shivered delightedly. “Probably would end up drowning. Bit counterproductive, that.” He raised a brow at her, smirking. “I  _will_  be saving that idea for the future though, Tough Girl, I can promise you.”

Marianne smiled slow and dark at him, letting her eyes go a bit heavy. “ _Good._ ”

Bog bent his head to hers with a slight growl, and their kiss was slow and thorough, making Marianne’s toes curl and Bog’s heartbeat quicken. They parted, breathing heavily, and Marianne felt both dazed and enlivened by the kiss.  _How_  could he do that, make her feel so many contradictory things and have it all seem so utterly reasonable and perfect -? 

She tried to concentrate. “So, shower.”

Bog nodded. “Aye.”

There was a pause. 

“We’ll need to leave the bed.”

“Aye, that’s true.” 

Another pause, longer. 

Marianne sighed, forlorn. “I don’t want to leave the bed.” 

Bog sighed as well, his face deeply reluctant. “Nor do I.” He glanced at the window, and looked back at her, raising a brow. “Though…it looks to be quite early still. Day hasn’t even begun. Maybe…a few more moments staying here wouldn’t do any harm?” 

Marianne threw back her head and laughed. They were going to be  _such_  bad influences on each other. “No harm at all,” she agreed before pulling him into another kiss. 

Sheets became increasingly twisted around limbs until they were pushed to the floor to join their clothes. Meanwhile, the sun climbed higher and higher until the clouds became as pink as primroses.

But Bog and Marianne paid no mind to anything other than each other. 


End file.
